Rapprochment
by PhantomMemories
Summary: After the events of Silencer, the people might remember, but the Nations have forgotten. The Earth, however, is always in a state of flux.  US/UK
1. Two Hundred Years

CE 2575

The one constant in the universe is, and always has been, change.

The Earth's movements around the sun alter year by year by fractions of the most minute measurements. The rotation of the planet itself is affected by the movements of the restless tectonic plates that nudge one another in a never-ending fight for dominance fueled by the core of the planet. In turn these masses of land both above and below the level of the ocean rise and fall, their shapes morphing and twisting in the grip of time and nature.

And the people.

The people change the most of all.

Nearly two hundred years after nearly half of the continent of North America sank into the oceans, scientists are still looking for answers, and finding very few, other than the discovery of the unstable nature of the Earth's crust. The quakes that claimed the continent and thousands of lives weren't the last – the seismic activity continued through much of the next century, focused upon the areas where the landmass had sunk. Much of the areas of the globe usually plagued by activity were free of quakes in this time period, leading some to believe that the earth's molten core had shifted towards the western hemisphere, causing the crust to simultaneously heat, crack, and shift. This lead to changes in sea level throughout the Atlantic.

A hundred years ago, the solutions to global warming was provided by the Nation of Japan, involving tiny nanite robots and an energy shield, fueled by the very geothermal heat that caused it in the first place.

None of the scientists who worked on the project could explain where some of the data came from, however no one questioned how efficiently it worked. Lands that had been claimed by the ocean resurfaced. Coastlines changed, islands emerged.

The movement of the crust changed the landscape, however, and ruins from the lost islands were found halfway across the seas that they had last been mapped in. Grecian ruins were found on a series of islands next to Spain, for example, when, according to the old records of that country, they had been much closer to the peninsula of Greece.

The ruins of a castle that Canadian records show as having been in the middle of the island known as 'Great Britain' were found on a newly exposed island100 kilometers off of the southwest coast of Ireland that extends another thousand kilometers into the Atlantic, with a series of smaller rocky atolls trailing in the same direction. Likewise, a few indications of ruins from the sunken part of the continent of North America have been found on a series of islands running from southeast of Canada towards the European continent.

These islands, referred to as the East and West Atlantean islands, have remained unclaimed by any nation, however the Western Islands are considered to be under the auspices of the Canadian government, while the Eastern have been watched over by both France and Spain. These nations have only allowed their peoples to apply to colonize these islands within the past decade, as they have only recently become arable.


	2. The Meeting

"Absolutely not, Russia." Canada scowled at the taller Nation, ignoring the way the others in the meeting room rolled their eyes and talked among themselves. "You aren't even anywhere near the islands. For fuck's sake, you're on the opposite side of the globe."

"But my citizens have as much right to the islands as you do, nyet?" Russia's smile remained, creepy as ever. How had Matthew managed to deal with it all these years. Something flittered just out of memory, a peace that he'd never known, not being so big in the spotlight... but it was gone before he could capture it. "They are in international waters, not in Canadian."

"That may be, but I don't want you surrounding me any more than anyone else does. My answer is still no- you may not bring your ships through my waters, and I know no one else is going to allow it either."

"They belong to no one, Canada," Russia persisted, "And I wish only for lands that are warm-"

"They're not yours, Russia. They belong to the people who have chosen to live there. Last I checked, your people hadn't even applied- and I sure as hell am not allowing you to build a military base there."

"So you have claimed them, da?"

"I.." Matthew faltered, "Most of them are still my people. There hasn't been any sign of-"

"Tell me, Matevy, have you even set foot on one of the islands yet?"

"Non," France was finally speaking up. About damn time. "However that will be remedied in short order. Our bosses have asked us to go and seek our little sibling. Ireland has been arguing her case to add the lands to hers, since the northernmost islands are so close to her. I say that when we find notre petit, he will make his choice, as Matthieu did so long ago."

But that wasn't right. Matthew had only had one choice. Francis had been the only one at first to-

"Agreed." Russia said after a long moment. "I will go with you. Whomever he chooses will have control. Will guide him."

Canada could only stay silent, and watch, now. Not that Ireland would be a bad guardian- but with her temper, if a new Nation grew up out of these islands...


	3. The Island

The largest island of the western chain had been named 'New York', after some ruins or other that the humans had found upon the peaks, and as a nod to the ancestry of one of the leaders of the settlement. Matthew wasn't certain exactly what it was, but there was some rumor about an old Nation, long gone-

That wasn't important right now. What was important was the murmurings of the sighting of a small boy who had somehow become separated from his parents.

Considering that the islands were still fairly geologically unstable, with moderate to severe earthquakes, and that the settlers themselves occasionally split off due to political disparity and the headstrong desire to 'get back to nature', it could be just an orphan that was so shellshocked that he was skittish of larger groups. The land provided plenty of natural resources, so it was entirely possible that it was just a wild-child, who, in any case, should be be brought to whatever near relatives existed in civilisation.

There was _something_ about this island- these islands- that had been tugging at Canada's memories since Matthew had set a foot on the western beaches. Like he'd been here before, and yet-

Maybe that itself was a sign that these were to be his lands. Russia would be disappointed, to say the least.

"There is something familiar here," France murmured to his ear, echoing the thoughts that were running through his mind. "It is as though I have seen something of these lands, and yet... I have never had a desire to claim them."

The words trailed off as they approached the area that the residents had mentioned seeing the boy. Russia and Ireland were off checking another one of the habitual sighting areas on the other side of the island, but Matthew had a feeling...

And it was proved to be correct by the sight of a blond head- not on the ground, as the settlement had explained. This child seemed to love to be up high- he was settled in the crook of a tree that overlooked New York's eastern harbour.

He looked to be about twelve, perhaps younger, and from Matthew's position on the ground, he couldn't see what colour the youth's eyes were, but somehow he thought they would be as blue as the skies he was watching so intently.

"Allo." Francis said cautiously. "Do not run away, s'il vous plait. We just wish to talk to you."

The gaze that looked down on them was indeed the colour of the skies. There was something wary in that glance, something old-

And the age suddenly disappeared in the flash of a brilliant smile.

"I know. You're like me." The boy said, "I want to go there-" a tanned arm pointed towards the horizon, "He's waiting for me, but I'm – I don't like the sea."

"The ocean certainly is dangerous for young ones." France said calmly, but Matthew could hear the faint notes of surprise and uncertainty in his voice.

This young one- this was New York. He knew more about himself than Canada had when he had only been settled for a few years. How strange.

"I know, but I promised I'd find him. It's not like I'm afraid, or anything-" But there was fear in that voice.

"Find who?" Matthew tilted his head, watching this strange colony (of his, his mind told him, after all the people came from him,) whose eyes had returned to the sea.

"Whom." Corrected the boy, not looking backwards.

"Whom, then?" Matthew smiled faintly.

"I'm... not sure. I just know I need to find him. He's all alone, and I – I need him." Tears were threatening. "I want to be with him."

"We'll take you there." Matthew said firmly. Perhaps these islands were not to belong to Canada after all. Perhaps it was to Spain, as Ireland was female. He only hoped it would not be Russia. "You don't need to cry. Even if you're not going to be my little brother, I'll help you."

"Matthew, are you sure?"

"We'll take you there, New York."

"That's not my name—" The boy jumped down out of the tree easily, landing with the clumsy grace of a teenaged boy. He was taller than Matthew had expected, but still- the eager expression in those large blue eyes made him reach out a hand. Perhaps the boy would accept his guidance. Would choose him.

"Then what is your name?"

"Thanks, Mattie." A hint of familiarity at the nickname, just a flicker, and whatever it was was lost in the rush of twelve year old energy running towards the newly built docks. "My name is Alfred."


	4. the Quake

Russia was annoyed.

And Alfred, now cleaned up, and put into clothing that wasn't ragged at the edges (or stained with blood- the scars the boy had, and he wasn't even a hundred yet!), was obviously pretending not to notice how Russia was annoyed. Or how the large Nation loomed over him, casting the bright gold of his hair into shadow.

"Ivan." Matthew's voice held a note of warning.

"Da?" Russia just smiled innocently. "You want something, Matevy?"

"We talked about this before. Stop looming." The boy hadn't reacted to Russia beyond a wary glance, honestly. While the relief that the boy hadn't chosen the large Nation as a mentor or guardian was wonderful, Matthew had to wonder if he was the only one who was concerned that Russia might push the point-

"It's okay, Mattie," The smile that was bestowed on Canada was full of confident sunshine. "He doesn't scare me."

"Very brave, this one," Ivan said, and Matthew caught a glimpse of something bordering upon respect in the eyes that were as violet as his own. "It is too bad that he-"

A soft sound pulled Canada's attention away from his shared glare with Russia.

Alfred's eyes were wide and staring- but not at the little office that Canada had commandeered to await the transportation to Spain. It was as though the boy was –

The soft tink-tink-tink of pens falling off the edge of the desk were the next sign. The trees outside the window were swaying wildly- An earthquake. They had been warned about the seismic activity before they'd even arrived. Canada had never personally seen the effects of an earthquake on another Nation, but he'd heard-

"Little one, are you all right?" Russia had caught Alfred before he could topple out of the chair.

"It's the earthquake." Matthew murmured, kneeling to check over the boy. There was already a faint bruise marking his left arm. "Maybe we should wait a few days before-"

"I need to go find him." Alfred's voice was small, "Please- he's all alone, and I promised."

"Alfred..." All alone? Spain was hardly alone. Perhaps Portugal, or -

"I'm fine, it doesn't hurt-" Alfred had broken away from Russia. "If the quake affected me, I need to find out if he's okay-"

"Transportation awaits," Francis chose that moment to return, pausing dramatically in the doorway. "The quake was mild enough to-"

"France." Russia was smiling at Francis, as always, "Have your people or Spain's started to colonize the Eastern Atlantean islands?"

Damnit. Russia was one step ahead of Canada.

"Oui. Some of the most stubborn and pigheaded citizens of Europe worked out a colony three years before the islands were declared habitable. I do not know how they managed to survive, but they have."

"Are they geologically stable?" Matthew swallowed hard, looking at Alfred's anxious blue eyes. The boy had been silent and shaking for a few minutes. "The largest one-"

"Avalon. I don't know why they named it that, but yes, the eastern islands are less prone to quakes, which is why they could be colonized earlier."

"That's where we need to go." Alfred's voice was soft, shaken. The chattering confidence had vanished in the wake of this new information. "Where I need to go."

"Shall we, then?" Francis gestured towards the door, "Ireland is waiting."


	5. The Misty Isle

Avalon lay before them, shrouded in fog.

It seemed that the only way to get to this island was by boat- helicopter pilots were refusing to attempt a landing in the high winds, and there was no runway on this island. So they were forced into traveling by one of the small ships that ferried some of the more hard to come by supplies to the islanders. Not that Canada minded. Matthew actually rather enjoyed the feel of the waves rocking the craft- and from the look on France's face, so did he.

In fact, aside from Russia's slight discomfort, and Ireland's nervous humming, the only one who wasn't taking well at all to the voyage was the cause of it.

Alfred was curled up on himself near the wheelhouse, looking pale, frightened, and ill.

At first, Matthew had been concerned that it was some after-effects of the earthquake that had ripped through his main island such a short time ago- but the locals had convinced him that any damage was minor, and commonplace. It was just the ocean.

"_I don't like the sea..._"

The colony had held an instinctive wariness of the ocean itself that went beyond just normal caution- and it seemed that it had been substantiated with a motion sickness that no one could do anything about.

"We'll be docking soon." Matthew settled in beside his little brother (Little brother? That hadn't even been decided in this sudden pressing need of the colony to chase a dream... but when had Al ever stopped-) Canada sighed, cautiously trying to soothe him with words, and a gentle hand on his shoulder. "How do you know that there's anyone here?"

"I-" Alfred's face twisted in a soft puzzled frown, "I just do. You believe me, don't you? Or you wouldn't be helping me."

"I know there's another colony here, and I know that … you believe that there's someone there. Maybe it's another one of us- or maybe it's just a dream, but I can't help but think that ..." Matthew paused, feeling the intensity of the blue gaze upon him. "There's been something missing from all of our lives for ages. Finding you- I feel like I've found a little piece of myself that I didn't know was gone."

"You're confusing." Alfred's guileless blue eyes were still on him, "How can you not know that there's a piece of yourself missing? It's so empty that it hurts sometimes."

The soft jarring of wood against wood told Matthew that they'd arrived, and that the sailors were going to be busy for a few minutes tying them to the dock. They could disembark in a moment, but right now...

"It's odd to me that you have that emptiness. How long-"

"Always." Alfred said almost too quietly to be heard over the calls of the people on shore. "It's so lonely on my little islands, that I can't get away from it. A voice calling me by my name, except I can't quite hear it. It's always a little stronger from this direction-"

"Are we ready?" France was there suddenly, "Notre petit, are you feeling better now?"

"Sure!" The bright and sunny smile was only slightly tinged with sadness, Matthew noted. "I'm ready."

"What did your people say, Francis?" Matthew asked, as they watched Alfred hauling himself onto the pier, to immediately be fussed over by a suddenly maternal Ireland, and loomed over by Russia.

"My people had been of the opinion that these island people were French, or Spanish, or even German. None had ever even thought to look for a Colony- although now that the idea has been presented to them, a few have admitted to having seen what they took as a ghost haunting some of the old castle ruins."

"A ghost, huh?" Matthew pushed his glasses back up as they approached the others. "Don't tell Alfred that part. I get the feeling ..."

"That he'd be scared?" Francis completed the thought, and shrugged. "He won't have time to be afraid. We're going there immediately."

"But the fog-"

"It's always foggy here. Part of the charm of the 'Misty Isles of Avalon'." Francis gestured towards a small vehicle awaiting them at the top of the steep climb. "Our guide awaits. Shall we?"


	6. The Haunted Castle

Castle ruins raggedly poked through the white mist at the peak of the very tallest of Avalon's hills.

Holes where there once had been glass and wood, and gaps where there had once been solid stone now lay bare to the atmosphere. The sea had worn the edges smooth, and some of the coral still remained in odd places, bare and white in the pale sun.

"It... looks haunted." Alfred whispered to Matthew, his hand tight in Canada's own. "Are they sure-"

"You're afraid of ghosts?" Matthew asked quietly, as they exited the vehicle. The sturdy pony that had pulled the carriage up to the castle gave a shake of its mane and a snort.

"N-no." The chin tilted upwards, and Alfred stepped past Francis, letting his grip on Matthew slide free. "I'm not afraid of anything. I'm a he-"

The word got cut off abruptly as Alfred closed his mouth and took a shaky step towards the gap between stones at what was once an ornate doorway. He was obviously terrified, and yet-

"I promised, and I'll follow through." Alfred said, as he plunged through the doorway into the dark corridor beyond.

"We should follow, Matthieu," France said reasonably, "He seems to rush headlong into things, and this is an unstable place-"

"Oui, Francis." Matthew frowned. They hadn't even brought flashlights. What were they thinking anyway- just this boy-

After corridors of following the sound of running footsteps, of seeing faded elegance worn in places and bright in others they found Alfred in a small courtyard that was open to the blue of the skies, and free of most of the mist. It wasn't wild, like the grounds outside the palace. This was... someone's garden. There was someone living in this place- there had to be. And if the natives didn't know-

Alfred was staring at the plants, fingertips touching a leaf here or there, walking between rows.

Matthew recognized some of the plants, and apparently so did Alfred.

"Tea?" France's voice asked. "And vegetables-"

"He's here, somewhere." Alfred's voice trembled, "But where-"

The boy darted off suddenly on a path that Matthew could only see once he followed. It twisted and turned- and lead through some of the most damaged parts of the ruins, towards a glade of trees that had poked up through the fallen stones and boulders. Like a rabbit, gracefully hopped through the fallen rocks and stumps, heading towards the tiny new growth forest where-

A figure moved- or more like trudged through that hidden path, a large wooden bucket in one hand, and some sort of bird in the other-

Alfred almost tripped, Matthew saw, but managed to maintain his balance as he nearly tackled the figure of a young man. The closer he got, the more Canada noted: This was a youth, not much older than Alfred, with a head of a paler messy blond hair, brilliant green eyes and the largest eyebrows that-

"England!" Alfred's voice was muffled against the homespun shirt of the older boy. "_England_-"

"A-America?" The older boy had dropped his bucket and duck in surprise, suddenly finding his arms full of Alfred. "What-"

"I found you."


	7. Home

It was some time later that things calmed down, and Matthew found himself sitting on a makeshift stool with a mug of tea in one hand.

"I didn't know how strongly my people would feel," the boy with ancient green eyes told him. He also held a mug with the same brew in one hand, but the other was twining through Alfred's golden locks as the boy dozed with his head on the other's lap. "And I was never certain that something like this would happen, so I couldn't tell anyone- especially him- because if it didn't happen, it would have crushed him."

"But it crushed him anyway." Francis said quietly from the open window. The castle had a few rooms that were marginally defensable and useable. Arthur, as the youth that Alfred had refused to let go of had introduced himself, had managed quite well for himself. A trace of guilt lay in his face and voice. "The memories trickle back, now. I do not understand why..."

"It is the nature of Nations," Arthur sighed, "We forget what is no longer there. There are probably a few countries that have gone through the same, and we just do not remember them. If their citizens refused to stop thinking of themselves as belonging to that particular Nation, and the circumstances brought the lands and people back together- we would know them immediately."

"But Alfred... America..." Matthew said quietly, "He doesn't remember much. He's weaker than I've ever seen him. How..."

"He's New York now, and I am Avalon." Arthur murmured, touching the younger man's cheek. "I was waiting for America to come find me, with his optimism and strength- I don't know what happened after I was dissolved."

"He was distraught," Francis answered for Matthew, "A grief that we didn't understand, because we didn't _remember_. He was always good at acting- putting on a smile while his heart was breaking. I left him alone for only a few minutes..."

"But why would he have remembered when we did not?" Matthew asked, watching the sleeping boy. "Why was he the one with that burden?"

"Because we were wrapped together more tightly than I had thought." Matthew thought he saw the beginnings of tears in Avalon's eyes. "He chose my culture, my language, and alliances with me, even though he gave the appearance of breaking those ties completely when he revolted. Even though we fought so often, he—we-"

"You loved him." Francis sighed, "And he could not live without you, so he chose to follow you. We were off my northern coast when he vanished. He slipped over the side when our attention was not on him."

"And not long after that, his lands vanished beneath the ocean, taking much of his population with it."

"Idiot." The word was softly sighed, as Arthur looked down at the boy on his lap. "Only those who were elsewhere survived then. He was fortunate that those few were so stubborn...but I believe that is why he remembers so little. If there'd been another way..."

"He fought to help you." Matthew remembered, "Couldn't that have-"

"Artificial land wouldn't have worked. We are creatures of nature. My people couldn't have built it all. It would have been mostly that of Japan, or America." Arthur's fingers stroked one tanned cheek fondly, "Perhaps it was for the best that we both start over. And this time, I'll support him, and know when to let go. He's going to need help, from what you've said about his land."

"You'll both need help." Canada said. "And we'll be here. If the other Nations remember-"

"We were going to have him chose again." France recalled, "But I think he's already chosen you, Avalon. You weren't even there, and he chose you."

"Arthur?" The soft mumble pulled Matthew's attention back to sleepy blue eyes that were fixed on the one holding him. "Can I stay with you?"

"For now, Alfred," Arthur smiled, and Matthew could see the shine of love there, "Until you're ready to go home."

"Wherever you are is home." Alfred said quietly, and went back to sleep.


End file.
